


Flowers of Flesh and Blood.

by bottomlouislarry



Series: Flowers Slipping From Your Hands [1]
Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction
Genre: Angst, Baker!Harry, Character Death, Crying, Cuddling, Fighting, Fingering, First Time, Fluff, Gay, Graphic depictions of violence - Freeform, Hurt Louis, Hurt/Comfort, Loving Harry, M/M, Needy Louis, Panic Attacks, Past Rape/Non-con, Pet Names, Protective Harry, Sleepy Cuddles, Smut, Top!Harry, bottom!Louis, graphic depictions of domestic violence, graphic depictions of rape, praising, pretty gay, proposal, small louis, sweet!Harry, sweet!louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 10:36:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11251380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottomlouislarry/pseuds/bottomlouislarry
Summary: "Baby," he coos, "I'm never gonna let anything happen to you," he says it with so much truth, making Louis' breath hitch as he eyes Harry. "I'm sorry that...that I couldn't protect you-before. Before us."(Louis is damaged in every sense of the word, and they're just trying to make it through the rest of their lives.)





	Flowers of Flesh and Blood.

His touch feels gentle.

Gentle is something Louis hadn't felt in years. Skin to skin and breathing abnormally, but in a good way. Shaky hands, eyes squeezed shut, heart pounding, fingers curling into fists, all in a good way.

He cries a lot. Mostly at night when he's too far into his own head, drifting through the plains of painful consciousness and feeling everything hyper-intensely. Every soft fingertip gliding over his skin is like a knife pressing into him, and it hurts. It hurts so much. So he cries.

It always hurts. Every attempt at regaining his sanity hurts. The _small victories_ break his ribs again, the _you're doing so well_ burning small circles into the hollows of his hips for the millionth time over.

And it's not about getting away, or being  
_safe_. Because you are safe, physically. On every level, you are away from him. Except, you're not. You'll never be away from him. Because he lives on your lips where his once were, under your fingernails and in your skin, in the breath you released when you gave up fighting. He lives in between your ribs where your heart is, and behind your eyes where it aches. He lives in the back of your mind and on the tip of your tongue. On your clothes, in your hair. Beneath your feet when you walk and under your bed when you sleep. He lives in the corner of every room, in the cold of every wind, in the tick of every second. He is the sound of death. He is a bitter taste. He is the chipping on the wall that you never painted over. He is everything wrong and everything sad and everything disturbing, but you feel he was the only one that has ever loved you.

Love is complicated, Louis knows. But he was always told it'd be beautiful.

Before she passed, Louis' mum used to sit at the edge of his bed and push his hair off his forehead while he babbled about his future. Every night he would ask her what love feels like, and every night her answer would be the same.

"It's wonderful, Louis."

She'd go on and on about _knowing_ when someone's the one. The feelings of butterflies and contentment. It sounded amazing, the thoughts would drift through his mind as he fell asleep. He wanted that.

Soon after, he'd realized that when he would think about love, he couldn't picture himself with pretty girls. His friends would talk about the girls that they'd take home from high school parties, cat call girls in the street, but Louis didn't see what they saw. When he thought of his future, what love was, he could only see himself with a boy.

He kept it to himself, didn't even admit it out loud his whole life, until one night of his nineteenth year, he just couldn't do it anymore. Everything was crashing down around him and it was dark and cold and he felt so alone. He found himself in the arms of his best friend, letting everything out, muffled by the collar of the taller boy's shirt.

"It's ok, Lou," James had whispered, wiping a stray tear from Louis' cheek.

Louis' breath had caught in his throat at the soft touch, craving more as their eyes met. "It's not."

James had cradled his face with one hand, leaning in a bit closer until their noses were brushing.

Louis didn't move, eyes becoming hooded as his best friend gazed at his lips.

"It is," James whispered, pausing as their breaths mingled.

Louis brought a hand up to James' chest, eyes fluttering shut. "Kiss me," he whispered.

And James did.

Louis stiffens at the memory, rolling over in bed for the thousandth time.

Sleep doesn't come easy anymore. He's so _so_ tired, so ready to curl up and doze off, in a world away from his problems. But he only ever sleeps a few hours, and that's on good nights. And of course, he can see the dark circles under his eyes, he sees that he looks _sick_.

Maybe he is.

He flips over onto his other side again, huffing in frustration. He just wants his mind to _shut up_.

He freezes when he feels movement behind him, the body on the other side of the bed rolling over as a hand reaches out for Louis.

He tenses, ready for the pain, ready to keep his mouth and eyes shut and take it. His fingers curl and his breathing stops.

But then the hand reaching out for him is rubbing soothing circles into his side, warm lips pressing into his shoulder. His breathing comes back and his fingers relax.

It's Harry, and Harry's touch is gentle.

Harry is warm, sweet, loving, careful, _gentle_. Everything James is not and never will be.

Louis doesn't say anything, just closes his eyes as Harry snuggles up to his back, wrapping him up in his arms and holding his cold hands in his own.

"Flowers," Harry murmurs with a gravely voice, pressing a kiss to the back of Louis' neck.

Louis smiles softly, opening his eyes again and staring at the white comforter. Harry _knows_. He knows Louis needs this right now and Louis is then struck with the unbelievable urge to tell him how much he loves him.

They first started doing this a year ago, when Louis cried in Harry's arms for hours, collapsing in on himself in an intense play by play of his dysfunctional mind, and Harry had noted in his brain that Louis' eyes looked a bit like the storm clouds in the sky that day. Harry had scooped him up and told him to think of everything he loves, everything that makes him happy. He told him to focus on the good in the world and then kissed his forehead softly. "Now tell me, Lou. Tell me what makes you happy," he had said.

"Butterflies," Louis whispers, his thumb brushing against Harry's fingers.

Harry hums. "Love songs."

Louis begins to relax in Harry's arms. "The smell after it rains."

"Summer nights."

"Sweaters."

"Slow dances."

"Goodnight kisses."

"Good morning kisses."

Louis giggles softly, turning a little so he could see Harry out of the corner of his eye. "You."

Harry's eyes flutter open and he pauses to brush a stand of hair out of Louis' eyes. "You."

  
-

  
Some days are better than others.

Today is a good day. Today is sleeping in and cuddling into the pillows with Harry's sweater on, sitting with his legs curled up under the fluffy blanket and his nose buried in a book.

Louis doesn't talk about what happened much. He doesn't like to say it out loud, in fear that if he does it'll become all too real again.

He's fallen into exulansis.

But even now, even without saying it, it's all he thinks about. It's always _there_. But on the Good Days he can ignore it, push it aside, and today is a good day.

He looks up and adjusts his glasses when he hears Harry come in the front door and trudge through the hallway to their bedroom.

"It's fucking pouring outside," Harry huffs as he walks in, shrugging off his soaked hoodie and shaking his long hair out. "I left the groceries in the car. I'll get them when the bloody rain dies down."

Louis giggles to himself and goes back to reading, only to look back up when he hears Harry stop shuffling and feels eyes on him.

He's standing in the middle of the room, biting his lip and grinning at Louis.

"What?" Louis smiles, confusion settling in the wrinkle between his drawn together eyebrows.

Harry's grin only widens.

" _What?_ " Louis chuckles.

Harry doesn't say anything, just dives onto the bed in one swift motion, right on top of Louis as the smaller boy squawks in surprise. He immediately takes the book off Louis' lap and throws it somewhere off the bed, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend and peppering his face with kisses.

"Harry!" Louis squeals in amusement as he curls into Harry's embrace, turning his head away from all the affection as his cheeks flush and his nose crinkles. He briefly realizes that he's probably lost his page, but that thought is pushed aside when Harry begins running his fingers up and down his sides. He thrashes in his boyfriend's grip, laughing. "No! Harry, stop!"

Harry chuckles and takes in Louis' beautiful, crinkly-eyed smile. His real smile. He'll never be able to see it enough.

He pulls his fingers away, settling with just holding Louis' hips tight, leaning down and pressing a sweet kiss to his boyfriend's cheek as he feels him catching his breath.

Louis' breath evens out and he giggles again, molding his body with Harry's so his legs are wrapped around the taller boy's hips, Harry burying his face in Louis' neck. "What was that about?" He brings a hand up to card through Harry's curls.

Harry nuzzles Louis' skin. "You're just such a lovely sight," is all he says, stroking Louis' ribs with his thumb, tracing over the scars that he loves all the same as the rest of Louis.

Today is a good day.

  
-

  
Some days are worse than others.

Today is a bad day. Today is lying awake until the sun comes up and not being able to focus. Today is nausea and throat lumps, not wanting to be touched. Today is having to look at Harry's face when he shies away from his concerns, curling up against the wall next to the toilet and _remembering_.

He finds an odd, twisted comfort in the cold of the bathroom tiles.

The door opens, and Harry comes in with a bottle of water and a blanket. He kneels down and wraps the blanket around Louis' weak body, rubbing circles into his back over the soft gray fabric. Gray. Everything feels gray.

"I have to go to work now, love," Harry says softly, concern evident in his voice.

Louis shuts his eyes and nods. He doesn't feel able to do much else.

"Are you gonna be ok?"

A nod.

"Are you lying?"

A pause.

Harry sighs. "Maybe I should stay home, button."

That puts a spark in Louis' veins. "Harry, no. You can't stay home from work every time I get like this," he says quietly, not opening his eyes.

"Lou, you need me," Harry presses.

Louis pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. "Harry," he trails off.

"Lou, c'mon, I can stay home. I can't just leave you here. Maybe I can get Niall to take my shift at the bakery-"

"Harry! Just go to work! I'm fine!" Louis' hands fly up in the air as he snaps.

Harry knows this, knows it too well. He knows that Louis isn't going to budge and that he wants to be alone, but this isn't _healthy_. It's not ok to keep everything in and dwell on his past.

Louis never told him what happened.

Yes, Jesus, he _knows_ about James. He knows of the abuse. He's known since the night he found Louis curled up in bed after a fight (over the Goddamn car keys, lost between the couch cushions), shaking and begging Harry not to leave. He remembers exactly what Louis had cried, grasping Harry's hand.

"You're the last person in my life that hasn't hurt me."

Of course, Harry would never pressure him to tell him the gruesome details. It's not like he can't infer a few things. He can see the scars and the way he flinches when Harry moves too fast. He can see the look in Louis' eyes when he sees someone who looks like _him_ , something that reminds him of it.

He's so, _so_ hurt and so troubled and Harry wishes he could fix everything, wipe Louis' mind clean of pain and anger and terror and _James_ but he _can't_.

Louis is convinced Harry will be caught in the collateral damage, and Harry understands that, but he also understands that Louis isn't in his best state of mind. Maybe he hasn't been since everything started.

Harry refuses to believe that. He sees him in there somewhere, the Louis that he was before. Of course, Harry wasn't around _before_ , so maybe he's just tricking himself. Or maybe he's right. Either way, in both circumstances, they're stuck, and Harry just wants Louis to feel _better_.

He loves Louis to bits and pieces, every single part of him, even the parts he can't see. Past the quiet, past the careful, past the fear. He loves him so, so much.

And he knows him so well. He knows that there is a Louis apart from what happened. His trauma does not define him. He still likes more cereal than milk in his breakfast ratio, he still wears his jeans pinned up at the ankle, he still listens to his favorite songs in the car and always sings along, he still laughs loud, loves even louder, and he's still stubborn and sassy. He's still _Louis_.

So Harry sighs, knowing Louis has shut down, leans over to kiss the top of his head, gets up, and leaves.

The front door shuts quietly and Louis is now very aware of how empty the house is, how empty the spot next to him is. He presses his face to the wall again.

Today is a bad day.

  
-

  
Good days and bad days aside, regardless of their moods, Louis loves Harry.

He loves him more than even he understands. He loves him because no matter how hard Louis fights him, no matter how much he pushes him away, Harry is patient and understanding, loving and comforting, so wonderfully _Harry_ that sometimes Louis forgets how to breathe. Sometimes, on the long nights, Louis wonders if the reason he doesn't love himself is because all the love in his body is for Harry.

He hates the way he is, the way he acts. But on the Bad Days, he can't even stand to looks at himself, can't stand the feeling of someone else's touch, even Harry's.

They haven't had sex.

Two years, three months, six days, no sex, and it's all Louis' fault.

Harry is so accommodating, and Louis knows Harry deduces with great dread that he was raped. He knows because Harry is always so careful with him, so lovely. He holds him by the curve of his waist and presses soft kisses into his neck, but would never go past that without Louis asking because he knows he isn't ready. And it's not like they haven't _tried_. It's not like Louis doesn't crave Harry's touch; he _wants_ to be connected to Harry in that way. He loves him. It's just.

When they do try, all Louis can think about is _him_.

"Please stop," Louis whimpered, face pressed into the pillows, arms clamped down behind his back by a strong hand.

"Quiet," James mumbled, quickening his pace.

Louis sobbed and tried to shift, screaming when he was yanked back into place, his back arching painfully. "Please, I'm sorry," he croaked.

The taller boy cursed and leaned over Louis, placing a hand over his mouth and his lips over his ear.

Louis sobbed into James' hand as he felt his boyfriend's lips moving against his flesh, knowing he's talking but not being able to hear him over the rush of his own blood in his veins.

"You like this, don't you?"

 _Him_ and his hands, his voice, his smell, his teeth.

He remembers all the blood on the bed. He remembers how bad the water hurt in the shower that night. He remembers how hard it was to walk.

He doesn't realize he's crying until he hears Harry's frantic voice coming from across the kitchen table.

"Louis? Hey, hey," he drops his fork and strides around the table, grabbing Louis' face and staring at him with a furrowed brow. "What's this? Why are we crying?"

He panics, shaking his head and falling forward into Harry's chest, hiding his face.

Harry coos, leaning against the side of the table with his hip and wrapping Louis up in a protective hold. "What happened, button?"

Louis just shakes his head again and sniffles quietly.

Harry deserves better. Someone that can love him back without being scared, someone who can give themselves to him in every way.

"I love you," Louis says pitifully, placing one of his hands on Harry's chest next to his own face and shutting his eyes. _I love you for never leaving me. I love you for being so supportive. I love you for all the times you've listened. I love you for all the times you've wiped my tears. I love you for understanding. I love you for never pushing. I love you for loving me._

Harry sighs and plucks Louis' smaller hand off his chest and into his own, bringing his lips to each knuckle in comfort. "I love you too." _I love you for letting me stay. I love you for letting me support you. I love you for all the times you've talked to me. I love you for all the times you've let me wipe your tears. I love you for helping me understand. I love you for never needing to be pushed. I love you for letting me love you._

Louis lifts his head to look at Harry as they press their palms to each other's. Their noses brush softly and they both smile just as soft.

Their lips touch and Harry laces their fingers together, letting his forehead rest on Louis' before whispering into their shared air. "Flowers."

Louis bumps their noses together a bit more, looking down as a few stray tears fall. "Butterflies."

They stay pressing into each other against the table for what feels like years.

  
-

  
"You're so pretty when you cry," James whispered affectionately as he let his cigarette ash fall over Louis' stomach. "I love you."

He was silent, face emotionless but tears tracking down his temples, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

The slits between his ribs were still bleeding but the pain was gone. Everything was numb except for his skull, because he answered. He spoke brokenly, his throat sore from screaming. "I love you too."

James smiled sweetly at Louis, like he loved him. Like he had the right to love him, to call him his, to hold him, to hurt him.

Louis didn't look at him.

A hand caressed the brunet's face, wiping the tears. "Promise you'll never leave me," James whispered.

Louis' hollow eyes flickered to the ones hovering over him.

When Louis had fallen in love with James, he'd always tell him he loved his eyes. They felt like home. He still remembers the first time he saw them change from sweet, calm, loving to complete lack of remorse, void of all emotion.

He's never hated the color brown so much.

"Promise me," James demanded, and Louis' face contorted from calm to intense pain as a lit cigarette was pressed into the sensitive skin of his pelvis.

He screamed, thrashing against the bed when James held him down and twisted the cigarette, grinding down on Louis' soft skin.

His promise back came out as a cry of agony, repeating it over and over, even after the fag had left his skin.

It was replaced by a choked off gasp and a groan through gritted teeth as James began to pet over the blistered skin with one hand, lighting another cigarette with the other.

It continued all night in different spots, once over his rib lacerations, until the pack was gone and Louis was sobbing as James' hand worked over his own cock.

He still can't breathe in the smell of smoke.

Harry must sense it, because as soon as they round the corner to the bakery, he stiffens, pulling Louis to the other side of him.

"What's wrong?" Louis asked, instinctively linking his hand with Harry's.

"Just keep walking," Harry murmurs, not looking at him but caressing Louis' hand with his thumb.

He's seen the burns all over Louis' hips and up his stomach, he knows what they're from. He could almost feel the pain himself the night he saw them for the first time, pressing kisses on and around them as he felt Louis' fingers run through his hair.

They had only been together for a few weeks, still drifting into being comfortable around each other as Louis went into Harry's room to change.

"Lou? I-" Harry pushed the door open, unaware of Louis' half undressed state, stopping immediately when his eyes led him to his boyfriend's damaged skin.

Louis jumped a mile, a loud gasp echoed in the empty air as he hugged his own bare torso.

They stared at each other, Louis in terror and Harry in shock.

He'd been trying to ignore it, to put it off. He didn't want Harry to see the state he was in, a mess of scar tissue and mistakes that were permanently etched into his once soft skin. He couldn't lose Harry, Harry is gentle. This is not gentle. His skin is all hard edges, a reminder of his past that will never leave him no matter how many times he showers.

He began to panic, looking around for his sweater that he had dropped when he jumped at the sound of the door opening. "I'm sorry. I-"

"Louis," Harry breathed, hesitating before reaching out for him, silencing Louis immediately.

The world stopped turning when Harry made the first contact with the healed burns on Louis' hips. Healed, but Louis is not.

He trailed his eyes down from Louis' to right above where his pants were still on, letting out a shaky breath and tracing one of the circles. It was a shade lighter than the rest of Louis' skin, rough under his thumb. He sucked in a breath of precious oxygen, very aware of the feeling of his lungs expanding as he took in Louis' sharp hip bones, the small swell of his stomach, soft and warm under Harry's hands. He searched Louis' upper body, beginning to smile slightly, not because he was happy, but because he knew Louis deserved to only ever be smiled at. His gaze would never hold disgust with Louis as his point of attention, as Louis could never be disgusting.

Harry brought his hands up and fit his fingers in the spaces of Louis' ribcage, right over some of the other markings. He slowly pushed him backwards, tenderly laying Louis out on the bed when his knees made contact with it.

He let himself hover over Louis and stroke his brown hair back off his forehead, locking eyes with him.

Louis' were wide and scared, his lashes fluttering when he felt Harry's lips on his.

They kissed softly, no rush behind it as Louis hesitantly placed a hand on Harry's bicep.

When they pulled apart, Harry went lower, kissing down his neck and prominent collarbones, stopping at the middle of his ribcage.

He supported himself on his elbows, bracketing Louis' waist and stroking Louis' side with his thumb.

"Louis," he said again, not looking up from his body. "You're so beautiful."

It was breathy and quiet, as if Harry thought he'd scare Louis off if he was any louder, making Louis shut his eyes and let out the breath he didn't know he was holding.

When Harry began to press warm kisses to each of his blemishes, Louis allowed himself to fall in love again as Harry's hair fit between his fingers.

So as Louis is led down the street and sees a man, cigarette in hand, leaning against the side of the bakery, Louis is bombarded by a strong sense of protection. The blockade Harry has created between him and his fears was the strongest thing he's ever seen, so he stops walking and stares at the taller boy.

Harry stops, immediately alert as he turns around and comes in close to Louis. "What's wrong? What do you need?"

Louis giggles and leans up to kiss Harry's lips, long but sweet, lips frozen on each other's.

Harry looks a bit surprised when they pull away, making Louis giggle again and peck his lips once more, brushing their noses together. "Love you."

  
-

  
"What's wrong, baby?"

"Nothing."

"Babe, tell me."

"I don't know what you want me to tell you, because there's nothing wrong."

"Louis."

"Harry."

Harry sighs, turning off the TV and lulling his head against the back of the couch towards Louis.

He looks so pretty, curled up and leaning on the opposite armrest, scrolling on his laptop with his glasses perched on his cute little nose. But something is wrong. He's quiet, more than normal, only answering with hums or one word, never looking at Harry.

Harry can tell he's slipping into that headspace. The one where all he thinks about is what happened.

This just won't do.

Harry adjusts his body so that he's leaning in the corner of the couch, curling his legs up but leaving enough room for Louis' body to curl up next to him. "C'mere, button," he says, arms open.

Louis looks up at the ceiling and sighs, eyes darting around before he shuts them, head resting on the back of the couch.

"C'mon, sweetheart. Come lay with me. I want to talk about nothing with someone who means something." Harry's voice is soft. Louis needs soft right now.

Louis keeps his eyes closed and suppresses a grin at Harry's words, lifting his head and looking at his boyfriend.

His hair is un-styled and messy, sticking up in all directions, his arms still open, making grabby hands at him. He has this little smile on his face like he _loves_ Louis.

Louis feels loved.

He crawls over to Harry and on top of him, laying his head down on his broad chest, curling up into a ball in his arms.

Harry pecks the top of his head and runs a hand up and down his back. "Now," he starts. "Tell me what all this _nothing_ is."

Louis nuzzles into his chest a bit more, the soft fabric of Harry's shirt rubbing his cold skin. "I'm sad."

Harry purses his lips, keeping his hand moving. "Why are you sad, baby?"

_Because you deserve better. Because I am not who I was. Because I haven't had a full night sleep in years. Because I miss my mum. Because I can't even have sex with you without breaking down. Because my skin is rippled and disgusting. Because he's all I think about, even though I only ever want to think about you. Because I don't have any friends due to my inability to connect to people. Because I shut you out when all I want is for you to hold me. Because I need you way more than you need me._

"I don't...I don't know," Louis whimpers, a lump forming in his throat. He cries too much.

Harry pouts, lifting Louis up so he's straddling his hips and locks their eyes. "Don't be sad, my love."

Louis shakes his head slightly, sniffling and reaching up to brush a curl behind Harry's ear. "I'll be ok."

Harry grips the hand Louis used to caress his hair, pulling it to his mouth and pressing a sweet kiss to his palm. He nuzzles Louis' hand and lays it on his cheek, sighing. Then, he says something. Not in a demanding or angry tone, more of an affectionate sorrow, but it still rocks Louis to his core. "Don't lie to me."

"Don't lie to me," James mumbled, ignoring the nails clawing at his hand, the hand that was currently wrapped around Louis' throat.

"I'm-" He'd been cut off, much like his air as he choked, black splotches in his vision around his lover's emotionless face. He reached out to his side for something, _anything_. But all he felt was the drug store plastic bag full of over-the-counter pain killers that had slipped from his grasp.

"Next time, let me know where you are at all times. I don't care if you just _ran out to get a few things_. You could be out with some other guy for all I know."

What gave Louis chills, what still does, was that his voice was so calm. Calm and collected like they were speaking over a brunch table about their morning.

Everything was calm. The lights had been on in the apartment and the TV was still showing a gleeful family movie, leaves outside rustling in the breeze and people walking by outside on the sidewalk. Children played outside and the sun shone down on them like Louis wasn't an inch from death.

That's what scared Louis the most. That if James killed him, if that had been it, the end, nothing would've happened. The only family he had ever had was his mother, and she passed when he was barely eighteen, barely able to stand on his own. With an absent father and a heavy heart, Louis had moved into a shit apartment with what little money his mum had left him, running into a tall, respectable, endearingly smiley man named James in his building hallway.

So with the internal monologue of upmost honesty with himself, Louis determined that he would have to make home in the dirt of a field somewhere when James' fist tightened. He closed his eyes.

Maybe the field near his childhood home, where he would watch the deer prance and the bees buzz past his ear. He remembered one time when he was young he had found an animal carcass in that field, it's rotted away flesh exposing its ribcage that flowers had made their home in. He realized with more comfort than dread that he would soon have daisies poking out from where his heart used to be. Maybe that carcass is still there.

He'd been brought out of his peace when his head was lifted by his neck and slammed against the tile of their kitchen floor, before the hand released his throat and his body sucked in a gulp of air. He rolled over onto his stomach, lungs desperately trying to expand. He panicked a moment, thinking his windpipe could've collapsed, but he didn't get to really think before he was retching up bile onto the stark white floor.

"Clean it up," James had said, staring at Louis squirm on the floor before walking out of the room.

"Lou, baby. Come back to me," Harry murmurs, running his hands over Louis' pale face, willing him back to where he is, physically. Safe and sound.

Louis' eyes blink a second, focusing, before he looks up at Harry's face and knits his eyebrows together like he's confused.

Harry smiles solemnly, thumbing Louis' sharp cheekbone. "Ok?"

Louis nods after a second, looking back down again. "Sorry," he whispers.

Harry pulls him close again so they're basically hugging, hooking his chin over Louis' head. "It's ok, love."

There's a deafening silence, and all Louis can hear is the clock ticking until Harry kisses his hair and speaks.

"Flowers."

Louis doesn't answer.

  
-

  
"Lou, why don't you come out with me and the lads tonight? You never do," Harry says, pulling his boots on over his heel.

James never let him go out.

"I'm ok, Haz. Go have fun, ok?" He smiles at Harry sweetly, hopping up off the couch to bounce over to him. "Don't want to intrude."

Harry frowns and wraps his arms around Louis' middle, sighing when Louis wraps his thin fingers around the back of his neck. "You could never intrude, button. They want to be your friend."

James never let him have friends.

Louis reaches up on his tiptoes and pecks Harry's lips. "Hazza. It's fine," he giggles, trailing a hand down to his boyfriend's plethora of necklaces and yanking them until their lips were brushing again. "Just come home, please."

Harry nods, stroking Louis' side. "I always do."

Louis smiles a little and finally presses their lips together, moving them slowly, bringing a hand up to Harry's hair and smirking into it when he feels the taller boy sigh through his nose.

He breaks off, chuckling when Harry whines at the loss and presses his face into Louis' neck.

"Mm," Harry breathes, mouthing at Louis' shoulder. "Maybe I should stay home," he teases, absolutely no promise in his voice of something more. They both know nothing big would end up happening, maybe a make out session or a handjob, but nothing ever more.  
  
But Louis plays along anyway, kissing Harry's cheek and playfully shoving him off. "Love you. Tell the boys I said hello."

Harry smiles and leans in to kiss Louis one more time. "Love you more. Text me if you need me."

Louis nods, watching him open the door and walk out onto their porch. He grabs the door before it shuts and waves at Harry as he walks off.

As soon as Harry is in his car, Louis shuts the door and chuckles, resting his forehead on it once it clicks, letting out a huff of breath.

He's so in love.

  
-

  
They're laying in bed facing away from each other, Louis gripping the pillow under his head tightly as he tries to will away the tears.

It always hits Louis so hard when they argue, makes him question everything about himself, makes him want to curl up in a ball in the dark and stay there for the rest of his life.

Harry isn't mean when they argue, but Louis can see the frustration in his eyes, he can see how hard it is for him sometimes.

Louis can't imagine how difficult it is to deal with him, how Harry must be exhausted with taking care of him so much.

"I don't know why you stay," Louis whispers, half hoping Harry didn't hear him. But when a sigh resonates in the silence of their dark bedroom, Louis realizes he must've.

Harry rolls over and places a hand on Louis' hip, rolling him onto his back. "I'm not going anywhere," he murmurs, placing a soft kiss on Louis' temple and throwing an arm over his tummy.

"I'm not going anywhere," James whispered comfortingly, stoking Louis' hair.

Louis' eyes fluttered in exhaustion, the feeling of James' fingers on his pounding head feeling like the blow of a hammer. "Please don't touch," Louis whimpered, his chin dimpling as he tried not to cry again. "It hurts."

"Shhh," James hushed, running his hand to the side of Louis' ribs to feel around the broken bones. "You're not bleeding," he mumbled.

Louis could've vomited.

Because when James had said that, he held unbridled disappointment in each word, like he wanted Louis to bleed.

That was another one of the many things about James that will stay with Louis forever. He enjoyed when Louis bled, he'd cut him open or strike him hard enough to break the skin and he'd _watch_. He'd watch the blood pour or trickle out of his body.

His favorite was when Louis' lips would bleed from biting on the very end of way too hard, so he could kiss him and taste the physical embodiment of pain dripping from the corner of Louis' pretty mouth.

Other nights he'd cut small patterns into Louis' skin, not hard enough to scar but enough to _bleed_.

He'd watch the red bead up at the surface, smile up at Louis like he's proud, and run his first two fingers through it.

Louis doesn't like to think about what he did after that, how he'd fuck Louis with those same fingers until neither of them were sure what blood was coming from where, until Louis passed out, until James was done.

There's a moment where Harry thinks Louis might've just drifted off to sleep, but that moment is cut short when he hears a choked sob ring through his ears. His heart speeds up and he pulls Louis closer so his head is buried in his neck. The body in his arms quivers and hiccups, letting out suppressed emotions and curling into a vulnerable position.

Louis continues to cry as Harry fusses over him, combing fingers through his hair and shushing him gently. "I'm sorry, baby, so sorry, don't cry, it's ok, you're ok, I'm here."

Harry's hands feel too heavy on his skin and his throat feels dry, like it's cracking on the inside. He starts to cough and choke, his breath stuttering as he tries to inhale.

Harry panics, rubbing Louis' back as the muscles jump under the skin there. "Woah, woah, _baby_ , calm down. You're gonna hurt yourself."

Louis makes a sound of struggle, his hand flying out to grab Harry's bicep.

"Ok, ok, sit up," Harry instructs, pulling Louis with him into a sitting position.

This has happened before.

Harry remembers the first time he witnessed one of Louis' panic attacks, he remembers how scary it was, seeing Louis' eyes so clouded.

He knows what to do, though, thank _God_.

He sits across from him, folding his legs and taking Louis' hands in his own. "Ok, button, look at me," he instructs.

Louis swallows around his fragmented breaths and locks his bleary, tear soaked eyes with his boyfriend's.

"Good," Harry begins, "now, I need you to count with me, baby, ok?"

Louis nods but continues to wheeze. "I can't _breathe_ ," he sobs.

"Shhh," Harry can feel how clammy and shaky his hands are, eyeing the smaller boy nervously, worried he might actually pass out.

"Ok, love, ready?" He runs his thumbs along the back of Louis' hand. A futile gesture of benign comfort, but in Louis' eyes it was anything but.

"One, two," Harry says, nodding a bit as Louis counts along with him in broken murmurs.

"Three, four," Harry stops as Louis whimpers and cuts himself off, retching a hand away from Harry's to clutch his own chest.

It's burning, everything is burning. His ribs are caving in, he can _feel it_. The lack of oxygen is making his face and fingertips tingle, pins and needles poking holes out from under his skin. His eyes frantically search his arms, nearly screaming when he feels bugs crawling all over him. " _Make it stop!_ "

Harry lunges forward and grabs his hand again, forcing Louis to look at him. _Focus_. "C'mon, love, you're doing so well. Keep going. Deep breaths."

Louis nods after a series of hysterical panting and starts counting again on his own, voice hoarse and broken, only stopping when he can breathe fairly normally again.

"There we go, good job, Lou," Harry says softly, pecking Louis' forehead.

Louis sniffles and leans forward onto Harry's chest, defeated. "I'm so sorry."

Harry sighs through his nose, gathering Louis in his arms again. "I don't want you to ever apologize to me."

  
-

  
"Where are you, baby?" Harry asks one day, studying Louis' glazed over, checked out gaze.

"Far away."

  
-

  
It's thundering, and Louis is sitting in the bay window with Harry's favorite blanket wrapped around him, counting raindrops.

Harry rounds the corner, headed for the kitchen, doing a double take at the window only to melt at the sight.

He slinks away backwards into the kitchen and emerges again with two cups of tea, shuffling quietly until he could hand Louis his cup.

The smaller boy looks up at Harry and smiles, taking the tea from him and looking out the window again.

"What's on that pretty little mind of yours?" Harry grins, sitting down across from him and curling up as well.

"Nothing, baby," Louis smiles and rolls his eyes fondly, bumping his socked feet with Harry's. "Always so worried about me."

Harry takes a sip of his tea and places it down on the table beside the window sill. "You wanna know what I think?"

Louis grins again and passes his cup to Harry so he could set it down beside his. "What do you think?"

Harry leans back against the wall again and opens his arms. "I think you need to come here."

Louis chuckles and lifts himself up to crawl over Harry's legs and settle in his lap, blanket still cocooning him.

Harry settles a bit and kisses Louis' head, rubbing his back over the blanket.

They watch the lightning strike for a few minutes, enjoying the feeling of chrysalism, Louis resting his head on Harry's collarbone as he laces his fingers with his boyfriend's unoccupied hand and thinks.

He thinks about how lucky he is to have Harry, how lost he'd be without him.

Because no matter how damaged Louis is, no matter how badly James fucked him up, Harry has guided him through it with a warm hand on the small of his back. He knows he's still got a long way to go, but he's being held up by this _wonderful_ man and he couldn't be more thankful.

He nuzzles Harry's chest, humming.

Harry looks down at him with fond eyes, watching the reflection from the window in Louis' glasses.

"Harry?" Louis says thoughtfully.

Harry hums in acknowledgment, smiling when Louis shifts his head to look up at him, still resting on his chest.

"Thank you."

  
-

  
Giggles and soft music rings through their bedroom, afternoon sunlight shining into the window between yellow shutters.

"You're so dumb," Louis giggles, pushing Harry's dead weight off of his smaller body as much as he could.

Harry stays completely limp, chuckling when Louis groans at the exertion of forcing him off. "I don't think I'm dumb. I think I'm quite smart actually. S-M-R-T"

Louis' eyebrows quirk sarcastically, little grin still on his face. "You aren't even smart enough to know how dumb you are."

Harry gasps in mock offense, finally rolling off but swiftly wrapping Louis' middle in his arms and pulling him on top of his own body.

Louis squeaks at the sudden pressure around his waist as he places both small hands on Harry's chest.

Harry tightens his arms and keeps his eyebrows knitted with a fake frown on his face. " _Louis Tomlinson_ ," he chides, his heart surging when Louis pulls his cute little bottom lip into his mouth and giggles. "Is that _any_ way to speak to your favorite person in the whole wide world?"

Louis' eyes glimmer, the look on his face challenging Harry playfully. "Who says you're my favorite?"

Harry grins, his facade broken by Louis' contagious smile. "I do. And I'm your favorite so I'm right."

Louis groans and pushes himself off Harry, flopping down on the bed next to him. "That doesn't even make _sense_."

Harry pinches Louis' side and turns so he could nuzzle into his neck. "What about us has ever made sense, baby?"

Louis chuckles, pinching Harry back. "You're not wrong."

Harry smiles into his skin, pinching Louis again. "'Course I'm not. I'm you're favorite so I'm right," he says pointedly.

Louis groans again. "Shut up."

Harry doesn't say anything, just keeps smiling because Louis is so easy to smile for, pinching him again where he's most ticklish, right under his ribs.

"Ah!" Louis jolts away, grasping Harry's wrists and laughing as he's chased with more pinches. "Stop!"

Harry comes in close to Louis' face, ignoring him but squeezing his eyes shut, singing obnoxiously loud to the end of what's _supposed_ to be a quiet love song, meant for soft touches and lazy kisses, but Louis thinks he sounds better.

"Perfect rendition of Ed Sheeran, baby, sounded just like 'em," Louis teases, flicking Harry's nose with his index finger.

"I thought so," Harry replies after trying to nip Louis' finger.

Louis nips his nose in return, squeaking when Harry pinches him _again_.

"Stop pinching me!"

"Don't bite my nose!"

"You started it!"

"I did no-" Harry cuts off as his face lights up, the beginning of their song filling the air.

Louis quirks an eyebrow and smirks, lifting his head to kiss Harry's lips. Short and sweet.

When they pull apart Harry smiles. " _Butterflies_."

Louis groans.

" _They fill my guts when I look in your eyes_ ," Harry sings over Louis' sound of protest, grinning smugly. " _A heart that's young is filled with sweet surprise, only the innocent can sympathize_."

They stare at each other for a second, mirth sparkling in both their eyes. Harry flicks his eyebrows up at Louis, signaling that he simply _has_ to sing his part or else he doesn't even _love_ Harry.

Louis rolls his eyes, but sings anyway.

" _I don't care about the funny way you wear your hair,_ " he grins, ruffling Harry's curls. " _Some day you'll let me put my comb up there, 'til then you're beautiful and I just stare._ "

Harry smiles even wider and leans down, sucking sloppy kisses onto Louis' cheek, the boy under him squeaking in amusement.

"We're disgusting," Louis laughs, rubbing a hand over the back of Harry's shoulder, the other poking his boyfriend's dimple.

Harry nods, kissing Louis' lips softly.

"Yeah, we are."

  
-

  
It's been a long day.

A feeling of monachopsis settles in the pit of Louis' stomach at the realization that he is, in fact, not in Harry's arms currently.

With an abnormal level of certainty, Louis stands from the living room floor and walks up the stairs with a complete lack of emotion on his features.

The amount of effort needed to lift one foot above the other to trudge up each wooden step, Louis realizes, was similar to the amount needed to hold himself together. To stitch every tear in his seams is to lift a home with his bare hands.

A broken home, Louis determines. He's only ever experienced the concept of a broken home. Broken is all he knows.

Broken homes, broken bones, broken promises.

"I promise I'll never hurt you," James had whispered.

Louis hits the top of the staircase and pauses, swaying a bit.

Lifting the bottle of wine, he takes another swig and swallows without really tasting. All his senses feel dull, anyway. There's no point in the first place.

He walks forward again, tripping over his own feet and stumbling to the opening of their bedroom, falling as soon as his body collided with the hard wood door.

He lets out a groan and figures he's gotten far enough, realizing after a moment that the bottle has spilled all over the carpet, red staining white.

It reminds him of his old bed sheets.

  
-

  
When Harry gets home from work, he screams.

His bag drops off his shoulder and tumbles down the stairs, crashing at the bottom and spilling it's contents.

Harry doesn't hear it.

All he hears is his own panic as he falls to his knees and gathers Louis up into his arms. "Lou? Louis, you're scaring me, baby, please," he rambles on, staring down at Louis' seemingly lifeless face.

In his panic, he shifts, balancing himself with a hand on the ground. When he's met with the cold, disgusting squish of wet carpet, he does a double take of the red liquid now seeping into the end of his sleeve.

He puts two and two together, letting out a sigh that started out of relief, ending in distress.

He checks Louis' pulse.

As the skin under his fingers throbs with promise of life, he sniffles, comforted. Louis' heart beat is a breath of fresh air, a splash of cold water on over-heated skin.

He lets out an audible grunt as he lifts his boyfriend, disregarding the mess on the carpet as he walks to the bathroom, laying Louis back down on the floor gently.

He stares for a few seconds and shakes his head, turning to open the cabinet under the sink and grab a rag.

This is Louis being bent to his breaking point, curling backwards and screaming, waiting for the snap of his spine and the ripping of skin as he is torn in half at the waist, intestines and blood spilling over the wine stain on the carpet with a disturbing _slop_.

The water over the rag is cold, but Harry doesn't feel it. As he twists the fabric so it's no longer dripping, he grimaces.

It shouldn't be so hard for him to sit down on the cream tile floor. It shouldn't be so hard for him to cradle Louis' head in his lap and press the washcloth over his forehead, stroking his cheeks with shaky hands. He shouldn't cry.

But it is hard, and he does cry.

"I'm so sorry," Harry sobs, hiccuping as he traces the curve of Louis' parted lips. He's so fucking beautiful, it almost angers Harry. Louis doesn't deserve this _pain_. "I'm sorry, Lou, so fucking sorry."

He's hysterical, leaning over and pressing desperate kisses to Louis' upside down cheek. (Or is Harry upside down? Or neither of them? There are more important things to worry about, here, Harry thinks, thumbing over Louis' cheekbones.)

Harry believes in God. He believes they are loved and protected by their Father, but he wonders, almost sinfully resents God for Louis going through this. When he prays, he begs for Louis to wake the next morning happy, maybe even after a full night's sleep.

It never happens.

Although, his faith has never been shaken until he lives through the intensely distressing ten minutes it takes for Harry to awaken a still-wasted Louis.

But then there's a groan and Louis clenches his eyes, grimacing into his drunken haze, and Harry finds God a second time.

"Oh, Lou," Harry sniffles, cooing and rubbing his boyfriend's head. "You scared me so much, love. I almost called an ambulance."

"Don't touch me."

Harry's hands halt, shocked. Louis _always_ wants to touch, be connected, feel the warmth he doesn't feel otherwise. Sure, there are times Louis shies away, feeling disgusting or unattractive, (and Harry _hates_ those times) but he'd _never_ tell Harry not to touch him like that. "What?"

Louis physically pulls Harry's hands off his head, bracing himself on the counter and, with a lack of grace, pulls himself up out of Harry's grasp.

The rag falls off Louis' forehead as he stumbles and it hits Harry's ankle, dampening the bottom of his jeans.

"I _said_ don't fucking touch me," Louis slurs, spinning on his heels and holding a finger up in Harry's face.

Harry sighs brokenly, still shaking off the tears from moments ago, irritated and confused. He struggles to his feet with Louis so close to him. "Babe, c'mon. Let's get you some water," he whispers, placing a hand on Louis' back to guide him.

Louis grumbles and leans into Harry, not because he needs him, but because he really doesn't want to fall. No, Louis does not need Harry. He can take care of himself, thank you very much. But his head hurts a lot and Harry is warm and soft and quiet. Maybe he'll let him get away with a few sweet touches. "Harry," he whimpers when the room starts to spin.

Harry continues to the steps, holding Louis up and pressing a kiss to his hairline. "I know, baby, I know," he murmurs.

When they reach the top of the staircase, Harry has Louis jump onto his back. "Don't want you falling and getting hurt."

They get to the kitchen and Louis shuts his eyes against the light, tightening his thighs around the taller boy's hips. A cocktail of love and frustration burns in his lower stomach when Harry's thumb strokes his leg where he's holding him up.

He honestly doesn't know why he's so mad at _Harry_. Harry is the only good thing he has left, but right now he's just so _angry_ , and Harry is so _sweet_ to him, no matter what, and it's _infuriating_.

He's set on top of the counter, swaying a bit when Harry's warmth leaves him. "I'm so tired," Louis whispers.

It means more than the actual words do, and they both know it.

Maybe at some point, when Louis is no longer inebriated, Harry will ask him what triggered this. Maybe Louis will tell him instead of avoiding the question. Or maybe Harry is going insane.

Definitely, Harry thinks as he fills a glass cup with tap. Definitely going insane.

When he sets the cup down next to Louis, they're both quiet for a really long time, stuck staring at the opposite wall. The only sound in the room is the white noise of Harry's palm rubbing over the fabric stretched upon Louis' back. Louis is silent.

But Harry knows better than to refer to Louis' silence as literal. Silence is an abstract concept, painted vastly different for each by a brain capable of complex thought. A canvas of colors accompanied by sounds within Silence rather than _noise_ , never reaching the outside of the mind. Louis' Silence is chaos, screaming and crying in the quiet he's kept, and Harry can hear it when they intertwine.

"I got a call today. While you were a work."

Harry's hand stops moving, a sinking feeling slithering into him and wrapping around his stomach, pulling tighter with each passing second.

There's a beat, a moment of Harry waiting for Louis to continue until he realizes he needs to be guided. "From who, love?"

Louis' eyes fall shut and his head hangs, unwashed hair veiling the sunken-in sockets.

Harry's heart breaks for the millionth time, seeing him slump over in defeat. Louis is an evergreen, forever beautiful, forever present. But the leaves are turning brown and Harry is afraid his tree is dying, ready to fall over with a crash at the slightest push. "Lou, who called?"

Louis looks up and sways again, never turning his head to Harry. "An old friend."

Harry's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "And...what'd they say?" He asks, trying to get Louis to elaborate.

Louis' lips part and Harry can see his eyes trying to focus. "It was about him, Hazza," he whispers.

Harry's mouth goes dry, all the breath leaving his lungs in a short _whoosh_. " _Lou_ ," he chides gently, breathily. "What did they say? Why didn't you call me? I would've came home before you passed out, I don't-"

Suddenly, there it is again, the drunken anger pulsing into Louis' chest, an overwhelming heat of frustration creeping down to his fingertips, because why can't Harry just _shut up?_  Why can't Louis just take care of himself? Why does he have to be babied? Why can't he just _grow up?_

" _God_ , Harry, shut up," Louis nearly yells, bringing his hands up to cradle his aching head. "Jesus fucking Christ, why can't you just let me take care of my fucking self for once? I'm a big boy, babe, I think I can handle a phone call from someone I used to know!"

Harry sputters at first, but then squints in disbelief. "Take care of- _Lou_ ," he says incredulously, "you were passed out drunk!"

Louis groans and rubs his face. "I'm an adult."

Harry stares, debating whether to scream or not say anything at all. He decides to do neither. "Louis, baby, I'm not trying to suffocate you. I love taking care of you, but if you want me to lay off, I will," he says gently, "but can you tell me who called and why?"

Louis looks him in the eye for the first time since Harry left for work that morning, but it wasn't the same.

Harry had been pressing soft kisses to Louis' temple and down to his neck from behind, sliding his hand up and down the curve of his waist over the sheet.

"Mm," Louis breathed out, fluttering his eyes open and stretching his arms. He turned over on his back so he was facing Harry, framed by Harry's forearms. "Morning."

Harry grinned at Louis' sleepy state, skin soft with the glow of morning. "Good morning, beautiful," he said softly, gently brushing his boyfriend's hair off his forehead. "Wanted to say goodbye before I left for the bakery."

Louis smiled tiredly up at him, lifting a dainty hand to rub up and down Harry's bicep. "Nice way to be woken up," he said cheekily, brushing his nose with Harry's.

Harry smirked. "What? Like this?" He leaned in and kissed Louis slowly, their lips sliding together and interlocking.

Harry sighed into the kiss when he felt fingers card through his hair. He pulled away after a minute, but only to kiss the corner of Louis' mouth and down his neck.

Louis sighed and fluttered his eyes shut. He could feel himself getting turned on, the dull heat in his stomach twisting. He rolled his shoulders into Harry and cradled his head in his neck.

Harry's lips left wet patches up to his earlobe, a hand traveling over his stomach, making it flutter under the warm touch. "This ok?" Harry whispered, slipping his fingers over Louis' growing erection.

Louis shuddered, hesitating. He wanted it, yes, but what if it hurts again? What if Harry doesn't really like his body? What if he pisses Harry off somehow? He began to panic, which is _stupid_ because they've done this a thousand times.

Harry sensed it, pulling his hand off and laying a kiss on Louis' cheek. "It's ok, button. We don't have to," he murmured, nuzzling Louis' soft skin.

But _no_ , no, _no_. That's not what Louis wanted. Just. _Just_ , "gentle?"

The way Louis said it, so soft, so sweet, needing to feel loved, needing _Harry_ to love him.

Harry jutted his bottom lip out at Louis, eyes going soft. "I'll always be gentle with you, sweetheart," he cooed, adoration spreading through his chest when Louis sighed softly. He dipped back into Louis' neck, "love my baby so much."

Louis whined, hands traveling to Harry's back. He lived for these moments, being taken care of, " _Harry_."

" _Shhh_ ," Harry cooed, letting his hand move back to Louis' crotch to rub gently over the sensitive head under his pants. "Relax, love."

Louis had melted into the bed, letting Harry work him over, moaning softly and curling his fingers into Harry's back, bucking his hips into his boyfriend's hand as he came.

Harry had moaned himself when Louis finished, always did, kissing his cheek and whispering about how much he loves him.

As he walked out the door the back of his mind wished he could wake up in bed with Louis and have lazy morning sex, take him apart piece by piece, murmur in his ear about how pretty he is, how beautiful, how sexy. He wished that when Louis looked at him like that he could just _take_ him.

But now the look in his eyes is empty, callous, dead.

"I don't want to talk about it, Harry."

Harry just stares at him, expression blank, mind racing, because, _because_ , "you never do."

Louis' eyebrows raise in surprise, obviously not expecting Harry to say that, but Harry continues.

"You never want to talk about it, you just keep it all bottled up in your brain and never tell me fucking anything. How am I supposed to help, Louis? How do you expect me to react when I leave this morning without worrying for the first time in days because you're happy and sated and then come home to you passed out, drunk, hanging out of the doorway to our room? What the fuck am I supposed to do in this situation? Enlighten me, babe, because I obviously have no idea what I'm doing if you don't even want to tell me what happened! Obviously I'm stupid and out of line for wanting to make you feel better, wanting to help you. I'm trying, Lou, I'm trying to help and to fix you or whatever, but it's _hard_. It's hard and I'm lost and I need you to help me help you, ok? We were doing so well and now-"

"Fuck you!"

Harry stops, eyes widening.

"Fuck you, Harry! Fuck you and your stupid fucking glass half full shit! Fuck you for thinking you understand what's going on! Excuse me for not wanting to sit down over a cup of tea and tell you the lovely story of my abusive ex-boyfriend! Excuse me for not wanting to recall all the times he hit me, or beat me, or called me names, or burned me, or cut me, and sit down in your lap for some twisted tell-all! Excuse me for not typing up a detailed memoir for you about how I got _fucking raped!_ " Louis is screaming at him, already hopped off the counter, when he grabs his glass off the table and throws it against the wall. It shatters and so does Louis as he grabs at his hair and sobs. His head hurts. " _God_ ," he hiccups.

This is complete and total emotional exhaustion, and Harry saw it coming. He saw Louis' ankles snapping under the metaphorical weight of this absolute _mess_ , and he couldn't even carry any of it for him. But oh, how he's tried.

Harry stands with his arms out in front of him awkwardly, like he wanted to catch Louis if he fell, staring at him with huge eyes, looking from the glass to his boyfriend and kicking the living shit out of himself because _why_ did he say _any_ of that? "Lou-"

"Get out!"

"Louis-"

Louis turns and looks at him, hands raised in the air and fingers curling with restraint, tears on his cheeks.

Their eyes meet again, and Harry sucks in a breath because Louis looks absolutely stone cold sober.  
  
"Harry," he says, quiet, ready to explode. "Get the fuck out."

Harry feels his chest tug because _no_. _No_ , please, he can't lose Louis, he can't lose him, "I can't lose you."

Louis lunges forward and pushes him, teeth gritted as he shoves Harry towards the door. "Get _out!_ "

Harry is fighting against Louis' force, abnormally weak as his muscles threaten to give out on him, his hands shaking because he's _losing him_ , and he's such an _idiot_. "Baby, no, ple-baby, please, I'm sorry-"

Louis can't even hear him, his feet digging into the carpet as he pushes harder, avoiding Harry's hands as they try to grip him, try to pull him in. His mind is still clouded from the alcohol but he's sobering up, his anger becoming his first sense.

"Lou, love, please listen to me-" the door hits Harry's right shoulder and Louis rips it open, shoving him onto the porch. "Louis, no! I love you, I'm sorry, button-"

"Stop fucking calling me button!"

The door slams, and Harry can hear it lock, but that doesn't stop him from decking his own body against it and jiggling the knob, tears rushing into his eyes as he bangs his forehead into the barrier between him and his love. "Louis, please," he whimpers.

Louis holds himself up by the door knob, breathing heavily and holding his temples with his other hand. He can hear Harry crying, and it's so hard to listen to because _Harry_ never cries. He's strong, so strong, always so strong for Louis, holding him when _he_ cries. But now _Harry_ is crying and Louis is so confused.

He hears a stutter in his boyfriend's breath and a noise like Harry is sliding down the length of the door to the ground. Louis does the same.

They're quiet again, apart from Harry's muffled hiccups, until Louis hears him say something.

"Flowers."

It's broken and raspy, like it takes all of Harry's energy to say that.

It does.

Louis never answers.

  
-

  
Louis wakes up on the floor the next morning, his head pounding. He groans as he sits up, looking around and rubbing his face.

His mouth is stale, so he drags himself off the carpet and towards the kitchen.

There's glass all over the floor.

_Oh my god._

Louis' heart simultaneously jumps into his throat and also drops to the center of the earth, smashing through layers and layers of dirt and rock into a fire burning almost as bright as the love he has for Harry.

"Harry," he whispers to himself, everything flooding back to him.

He spins on his heels, nearly stumbling to the door, grasping the handle and whipping it open.

_He's gone, you've pushed him away, you've done it, he doesn't love you anymore, you've lost him-_

He steps onto the porch, expecting the car to be gone and Harry to be somewhere far away from here, but then he's turning to their old whicker chair and wrapping his own arms around his waist, holding himself, because Harry is still _here_.

He sucks in a breath, lip trembling.

Harry jumps out of his sleep at the sound, alert, his arms uncrossing from where he was curled up, hands flying out to grip the arms of the chair as his head snaps up to Louis.

They get a good look at each other and Louis' lip trembles even more because Harry looks _awful_. His eyes are puffy and his nose is red, bottom lip bitten and his worry lines showing, and his back must _hurt_.

"Your back," Louis whimpers, arms tightening around himself. "You slept in that chair?"

Harry looks at him for a good five seconds (the longest five seconds of their lives), until he finally gets up and gathers Louis in his arms in one swift motion.

Louis' face crumples and he sobs as he wraps his arms around Harry's neck, left hand going to the back of the taller boy's head.

Harry lifts him with his arms around his waist so his feet are dangling, furrowing his brow and squeezing his eyes shut because he needs Louis, he needs to know he hasn't fucked this up.

Loud sobs wrack Louis' little body as he holds Harry against him, rubbing his fingertips into his scalp. "I _love_ when you call me button," he says on an exhale. It's muffled by Harry's shirt, but he hears him.

He laughs, short but a bit hysterical, because they're still outside and probably making quite the scene, and Louis is so adorable if _that's_ what he wants to make sure Harry knows, then sniffles, rubbing Louis' side. "Lou," he says, just because he can.

They stay like that, Louis crying his eyes out with Harry holding him, running his fingers through the curls he loves so much.

"I'm sorry," Harry murmurs, kissing whatever part of Louis he can reach, his shoulder, his ear, his neck, his hair. He breathes him in, feeling Louis' tears seep into his t-shirt. "I'm so sorry, baby. What I said-I don't-"

Louis shakes his head as much as he can. " _No_ ," he sniffles, pulling back a little so he can see Harry, nose brushing his cheek. "I'm so _mean_ to you _all the time_ , stop saying you're sorry," he wiggles for Harry to put him down, wiping his tears with the back of his hands and cupping Harry's cheeks. "I love you, I'm sorry, please don't leave me," he nearly whimpers.

Harry is shaking his head before Louis even finishes, pressing hurried, desperate kisses to Louis' lips. "Never gonna leave," he mumbles, kissing him again. "Love you so much."

Louis sighs against Harry's mouth, reveling in Harry's big hands on the small of his back.

Their lips move and lock, and Harry is pushing Louis back through the open door, shutting it again without separating them.

Louis breaks off first and stares at Harry, pressing his cold fingertips into his cheek. The reverence in Harry's eyes makes his chest ache because he knows the feeling. The _how is this real, how are you really mine_ aspect of their relationship never truly faded, not that either of them really want or expect it to.

Louis' heart thumps against it's cage, pulsing with love and adoration. After all they said last night, all the stupid things he's ever done, even before Harry (especially before Harry), they all don't matter when he feels the way Harry loves him, the way they need each other like air.

The realization of what he wants for the first time in four years hits him like a train.

"Harry," he breathes, "I want to."

Harry is panting softly, pressing his forehead to Louis'. "Yeah?" He says after a beat.

Louis nods, still combing through his boyfriend's hair. "Yeah. I love you. Im ready."

Harry stares into his eyes, searching for any indication that Louis is lying. He found none. "...Ok."

And like that, Louis is lifted into Harry's arms, legs wrapped around the taller's hips. Harry is pressing wet kisses on his Adam's apple, making his way to the steps. "Gonna take care of you."

Louis shudders, nodding slightly, more in reassurance for himself than acknowledgment for his boyfriend, and Harry knows.

They make it up the stairs and to the bedroom, bypassing the stain of wine and collapsing on the bed, Harry still between Louis' legs.

They stop, breathing heavily, and Harry kisses Louis' forehead. "I know you're scared, baby," he whispers it with an understanding like he feels it too, grasping one of Louis' hands in his own.

Truthfully, Louis isn't scared. He's _petrified_. His virginity wasn't given away, it was stolen, right out from under him and it _hurt_. The first to the last time he did this it was horrific, scarring, physically and mentally, and Louis can feel his thighs shaking around Harry from nerves. He doesn't want to feel that again, he needs gentle.

Harry is gentle.

"But I don't want you to be. No need to be scared when I'm here," he whispers, kissing every inch of his neck.

As he says it, Harry twines his pinkie with Louis' like a promise, a contract, and Louis could just die from how sweet he is. "Harry," he whispers back. He's not sure why all he can say is Harry's name, and he's not sure why they're both whispering, but it feels as though if they speak any octave louder everything will fall apart.

Harry doesn't say anything, just slips his hands under Louis' shirt and rubs his thumbs into his skin. Over the dips and curves of his stomach, the blemishes on his hips and his scattered freckles.

Louis sighs and lifts his upper body so Harry could slip the fabric off his torso. Once it's off, he curls his arms over himself out of habit and lays back down.

Something flashes in Harry's eyes like it always does when Louis does that. "You're so lovely, honey, so pretty. Don't cover yourself up," he whispers, gently unfolding Louis' arms. He kisses the skin underneath, sucking bruises along his collar bones.

These bruises, Louis feels warm when he looks at. He feels a sense of protection and commitment, a bond. These bruises aren't the same as the bruises he used to have. These bruises are full of love and passion, reminders that Harry will always be here.

Harry goes lower, rubbing the band of Louis' sweats and licking his hip. "Lift up, babe," he murmurs into the skin.

Louis lifts his pelvis a bit, allowing Harry to slowly slide down his pants.

Harry is still kissing him all over, following the path of the fabric dragging down his leg, like he's trying to patch him back up with his lips, and Louis loves it. He feels safe doing this for the first time ever, he feels secure, he feels loved.

As Harry reaches his feet, he pulls his sweats off all the way and runs a warm hand over the top of his foot and up his shin. It's so soft, his caress, like Louis is so fragile he could crumble in his hands. Louis thinks maybe Harry is afraid of that.

He watches with a feeling he can't name as Harry kisses his ankle and traces the jut of the bone with his thumb. He follows his hand up Louis' leg, mouthing gently over his calf and tracing his Achilles' tendon with soft fingers.

Louis' breathing is slow and he can feel himself relaxing at the feeling of Harry's tender touches. He melts when warm fingertips are pressing into the back of his knee, even warmer lips laying kisses right where his calf meets his thigh.

Harry presses one last kiss to Louis' inner knee as he kneels up, still between his boyfriend's bent legs, pulling his own shirt off.

Louis always loses his breath when he sees Harry like this, because he's so _hot_. All lean muscle and toned stomach, skin smooth with tattoos littering his arms and chest. He reaches out, tracing the lines of his abs and smiling a bit when Harry shivers at the touch.

He feels himself growing harder, his hips lifting a bit in search of friction. He's almost embarrassed, though, nearly ashamed. He needs to be reassured that Harry will love him after this, will still want to keep him close and take care of him the way he does. He needs to know Harry will still kiss him goodnight, rub his back, whisper sweet nothings in his ear-

"Harry?" He says softly, a spike of insecurity suddenly shooting up his spine.

Harry leans down over him again, running a hand through his hair. "Hm?"

Louis is quiet for a second, trying to find words, the right words. "Will you just-can you-I want to, like, hold your hand. When we...do this. Please?" He stumbles over the entire sentence, heart fluttering. "I'm scared," he whimpers, redundantly.

Harry's eyes soften even more if that's possible, lacing their fingers together. "You don't have to ask me, baby. I'll always hold your hand." He brings Louis' knuckles to his lips. "Love you so much," he says, kissing each finger. "I know you're scared, and it's ok, but what are you scared of, honey?"

Louis searches for the correct way to put it. The terror of it hurting, of not being able to get away if something goes wrong, the fear of his screaming being muffled or even plain ignored. It's _scary_. He can't find his voice, so he shuts his eyes and shakes his head like it doesn't matter.

But Harry knows it does. "Baby," he coos, "I'm never gonna let anything happen to you," he says it with so much truth, making Louis' breath hitch as he eyes Harry. "I'm sorry that...that I couldn't protect you-before. Before us."

 _Before us_.

Louis blushes, brushing back Harry's hair and holding his face. "It's not your fault."

Harry can barely hear him with how soft his voice is now, but he does, so he leans down and presses his lips to Louis'.

The kiss turns dirty, but not rushed, slow and sensual as Louis runs his free hand up Harry's back. "Please," Louis whispers into his mouth, shifting his hips into Harry's jeans.

Harry nods, letting go of Louis temporarily to unbutton his pants. "Hang on," he mumbles, standing up to pull them down and kick them away along with his boxers, and there they both are.

They've seen each other naked before, of course, being together for so long, many nights of getting each other off, but this time they're about to have _sex_. Louis swallows loudly.

Harry smiles reassuringly, climbing back into bed and settling with his head between Louis' legs. "Still wanna hold my hand, baby?" He asks, offering his left for Louis to take.

Louis nods softly, placing his small hand in Harry's and watching it get engulfed.

Harry kisses his hip, right next to his cock, and Louis flinches.

"Shh," Harry whispers, "it's ok." He lays more kisses right on the sensitive spot where Louis' crotch meets his leg, making the smaller boy buck up at the soft sensation.

Harry smiles at that and pulls away, crawling back up to open their bedside drawer.

The sound of the drawer opening makes Louis clench his eyes shut. His breath quickens, terrified of what's about to happen, and he can feel it, his chest tightening, arms trying to curl up-

"Hey, hey," Harry coos, tightening his fingers around Louis', coming to hover over him again, lube in hand. He drops it, though, using that hand to comb through his boyfriend's locks. "Baby, shhh," he murmurs. "Don't panic, sweetheart. It's us, yeah? Just us," he stops to kiss his forehead, "and if you don't want to carry on at _any_ point, you tell me, ok?"

Harry looks so sincere, eyes big and full of love, so Louis nods.

"Ok," Harry nods back, confirming.

Louis smiles a little at him, can't help it, making Harry smile too.

"Look at you!" He gushes, kissing him sweetly all over, making Louis smile even more. "Such a pretty smile, so pretty," he nuzzles into Louis' cheek.

He doesn't know what it is, but Louis can feel something in his stomach every time Harry tells him he's pretty, or coddles him, or gives him little kisses. It's a tug, like he's aroused, but he's never had someone treat him like this during anything sexual other than Harry. "I like when..when you call me that," Louis says in a small voice. "I never told you...but I like it a lot."

Harry kisses his cheek sloppily again, smiling against him. "Good," he says, beginning to kiss down his neck, "because I love calling you that." He stays there for a while, knowing how much Louis loves it when he kisses his neck, until he begins to get antsy, needing to touch Louis properly. "You know what else I love?" He asks, whispering in the smaller boys ear, making him shiver.

"What?" Louis shudders.

Harry smooths his hand down Louis' stomach and to his cock, placing one finger at the base and dragging it up the underside. "I love," he starts, rubbing his finger over his slit, "when I get to do _this_ ," he presses his thumb into the spot right under the head of Louis' cock and rubs in circles, making Louis let out a breathy moan, "drives you crazy. Doesn't it, Lou?"

Louis' eyes fall shut and he moans again at Harry's words, a soft sigh leaving his throat, squirming.

Harry smirks, letting his hand go lower and rolling Louis' balls in his fingers. "I'm gonna finger you now, love. If you want me to stop I need you to tell me, ok?" He says gently, kissing Louis' cheek.

Louis swallows and nods after only a second's hesitation. "Please go slow," he whispered.

Harry nods, picking up the lube and thumbing it open. "I will, baby."

Once he has three fingers slick, he wraps one of Louis' thighs around his hip and traces a finger over his tense hole. "Need you to relax, ok? Gotta let me in so it isn't uncomfortable," he says softly, gently, choosing his words carefully.

Louis nods and takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes. He can feel himself shivering, his thighs instinctively trying to shut, his fingers gripping the bed spread and his breath coming out shaky.

Harry rubs his free hand against Louis' tummy, eyes full of sympathy. "Sweetie, you're trembling. Are you sure you want to do this?"

Louis' eyes open, and for a second, he considers stopping. He considers telling Harry he can't do it and that he's so sorry and that they can try again another time, but _no_. He can do this.

He unhinges one of his hands to grab for Harry's on his tummy again, pulling slightly for him to lean down for a kiss.

He does, and when they pull away Louis nods. "I'm ok."

Harry kisses him one more time in acknowledgment, sitting back up on his knees and lightly rubbing over Louis' hole to open him up. "Ok, love, deep breath."

Louis obeys, sucking in a gulp of air as a finger slides into him.

"That's it, babe," Harry whispers, his dick twitching at the feeling of Louis hot and tight around his finger. That will come soon enough.

Louis shudders, hand tightening on Harry's as he adjusts. He clenches and unclenches a few times, getting used to the feeling. "Ok, you can-," he cuts off, swallowing, "you can move."

Harry nods and slowing pulls his finger out before pushing back in again. "That feel ok?"

Louis furrows his brow and looks up at his boyfriend. "Yeah it-it's fine. Doesn't hurt."

"Good," he murmurs, continuing the soft prodding. His finger slides out to the second knuckle, sinking back in and swirling around gently, stretching him.

Louis shifts his hips a bit, trying to get comfortably adjusted to the pressure inside him. But then Harry curves his finger and strokes over something, making him whine and arch his back.

Harry hums. "That it, baby? That the spot?" He whispers in Louis' ear, nipping the lobe. He slips out his finger all the way, making Louis whimper, then pushes back in all the way, directly into his prostate.

"Unngh," Louis whines, grinding back. He's never experienced this. It's only ever been for James, never for Louis. He was never taken care of, made comfortable, pleasured like this. "Feels good," he says, breathless.

Harry smiles. "Wanna make you feel good, button," he presses more slow kisses to Louis' neck. "So pretty," he whispers between pecks. "'M gonna add another, sweetie."

Louis moans, nodding hesitantly.

Harry thumbs over his boyfriend's knuckles as he presses a second finger into him, earning a whimper of discomfort as he went in a bit fast.

"Sorry, baby," Harry murmurs, laying a lingering kiss to Louis' cheek and slowing again. "My baby," he mumbles, crooking his finger and watching Louis' face as it contorts in pleasure.

"Mmm, Harry," he moans breathily, his cock lying hard and twitching.

This is so different, so good. New feelings are spreading through Louis' whole body, radiating from his center where Harry's fingers are twisting and curling, stretching him out and _taking care of him._ "Harry," he breathes, near frantic. "Harry, Harry-"

Harry immediately stops his ministrations and looks Louis in the eyes. "What? What's wrong? Do you hurt? Shit-"

"I love you," Louis whimpers.

Harry's eyes soften as his heart swells and pops, his fingers moving again. "I love you too, button. So, so much," he nuzzles his nose against Louis'. "You don't even know," he tacks on, trying to pour his heart out through his words.

Louis shuts his eyes and smiles for a second, letting out a harsh breath, rolling his hips now.

They continue like this, Louis bucking and whining, Harry rubbing continuous circles into the little bundle of nerves until Louis reaches down and grasps his wrist.

"I'm-" he takes a shallow breath and nods, more to himself than Harry. "I'm ready."

Harry scissors his fingers one more time just to be safe and nods, pulling them out.

The next few minutes are a blur of Harry lining himself up and rubbing the tip of his dick against Louis' entrance, the sensitive head sliding over his hole and catching, making them both sigh.

"Ready?" Harry murmurs, pecking Louis' lips.

Louis' heart is thumping out of his chest, but he nods, gripping Harry's bicep.

He pushes in, and Louis' eyes fall shut.

He remembers tentatively walking into W Mandeville bakery on a rainy day, the sound of the bell above the door, the smell of tea and pastries, the feeling of home. The boy behind the counter.

He remembers blushing at Harry's flirty smile when he handed him his change. He remembers sitting at the bar, his head resting in his hand while he listened to Harry's story of how he ended up owning the shop, or how he doesn't usually talk to just any pretty boys that walk through the door.

"But I think I can make an exception," he had grinned, winking at Louis.

He remembers the next few weeks, coming to the bakery more to see Harry than to have his morning cuppa.

He remembers when Harry first asked him out, how much Louis wanted to kiss him.

"Lou!" Harry had shouted as Louis walked in, beaming as bright as the sun.

Louis had smiled shyly and waved, adjusting the beanie on his head.

"C'mere, love; wanna ask you something while I make you your usual," Harry said, spinning around to the coffee maker.

Louis quirked an eyebrow, but sat down at the bar anyway, eyes settling on the back of Harry's apron. He always tied the knot a bit to the left instead of in the middle of his back. Louis found it endearing.

"So," Harry started, not turning from what he was doing. "I was wondering if...maybe you'd let me, like, take you out?" He turned to slide the mug to Louis' shaky hands, looking nervous for the first time since Louis met him.

Louis had stared at him, eyes wide, and he didn't realize until Harry started to backtrack that maybe he should answer.

"I mean-you don't have to, I just think you're so pretty and we've gotten to know each other really well these last few weeks-I'm-I've made you uncomfortable, haven't I? I'm sorry-never mind, I-"

"Harry," Louis giggled, albeit a bit nervously, his right hand curling into a fist, nails digging into his palm. "I'll-yes, I'll go out with you."

Harry bottoms out, and Louis' eyes open again.

He can see Harry in the driver's seat of his car, top down, smiling over at Louis and laughing along to their favorite song. He can see his hands in the sky, running through clouds and painted blue. He can feel the wind in his hair, the afternoon sun perched on the tops of trees. He can see again.

He can feel Harry's lips on his for the first time, the taste of his mint toothpaste and the ice cream they'd just had. He can feel Harry's cheeks under his palms as they pulled away, he can see the blush on Harry's face. He can feel again.

There's no James, no pain, no scars, no anxiety, no screaming, no panicking. Just them, together, locked to each other.

He can live again.

Harry snakes one arm under Louis' back so can hold him close, finding refuge in the curve of his back. He rolls his hips once, eliciting a moan from Louis' swollen lips. " _Baby_ ," he groans.

Louis sighs in reply, wrapping his free arm around Harry's shoulder, nuzzling into his neck and adjusting his grip on Harry's hand.

They go slow, so slow, getting lost somewhere between bed sheets and the feeling of absolute, undeniable, arse-over-tits love.

Harry kisses his cheek, breathing heavily into his skin and rolling his hips again, starting a slow rhythm that has Louis squirming.

He trails his hand from around Louis' back to his side, petting over the curve and grunting. Louis is so small under him, so vulnerable, needing to be protected. "So little," he murmurs.

Something burns in Louis' tummy at that. He loves when Harry tells him how little he is, even if he pretends he hates it. He loves that Harry can pick him up and move him around, fold him up in his arms and smile at how his forearms take up the _entirety_ of Louis' back. He moans at the thought, soft and airy, right in Harry's ear.

"Love your noises," Harry continues, "so sexy, you're so sexy, baby."

His hips are going at a stronger pace now, rocking into Louis steadily as he arches his back under him.

"How are you feeling, sweetie?" Harry whispers breathily.

" _Yeah_ ," Louis whimpers, grinding back against his boyfriend.

"Yeah? Want me to make you come, baby?" Harry asks, jerking his hips forward a bit harder.

Louis whimpers, his nerves slowly fading as Harry caresses him softly, keeps a firm grip on his hand, keeps his hips at an agonizing pace.

He begins to panic a bit as Harry moves to sit up, his breath speeding up as he clings to him.

"Babe, it's ok, it's ok, I'm just gonna kneel up," Harry shushes him gently, kissing his knuckles and sitting back on his haunches. He grips Louis' pelvis as leverage, letting go of Louis' hand for a moment.

Louis whines, his security blanket being taken away, and he suddenly feels so small, and not in the way he likes. He feels like he has to move away, shut his legs, like he's ugly, like Harry doesn't want him.

But then Harry runs the soft palm of his hand down his inner thigh and lifts his knee over his arm, shifting Louis to a different angle. He pulls out and pushes back in, longer strokes than before, and Louis' eyes roll back into his head.

"Oh-oh my God," Louis sobs as Harry hits his prostate dead on, hand flying up to grasp Harry's again on his hip.

"Yeah," Harry grunts subconsciously, working his hips in and out faster, dragging the head of his cock over Louis' spot.

"Oh-uh-" Louis cut of with a sharp sigh, arching his back, body on display for Harry.

"Fuck-look so pretty, button," Harry grunts, sweat beading on his forehead in exertion. "All spread out for me, all for me."

Louis nods, not able to do much else, his cock twitching every time Harry pushes in.

He feels like something is missing, though. He needs to feel Harry closer, feel him all over.

"Harry," he breathes.

"Hm?" Harry hums, slowing his thrusts. "You ok? Does it feel good?"

Louis nods again, but leans up to grab Harry's shoulder. "Want-want you to hold me," he murmurs, almost shy.

Harry nods and wraps his arms around his waist to haul him up.

It ends up with Harry holding Louis in his lap while he lifts him up and down his shaft, meeting him half way with the strong but loving thrusts of his hips.

They're quiet after that, save for Louis' harsh breaths every time Harry pushes in and grazes his prostate.

It isn't until Harry pulls him closer and begins to lick and suck Louis' nipple that he begins to moan again, getting close.

"Harry," he groans, "Harry-baby-gonna come," he whines, lacing his fingers in Harry's curls.

"Yeah, c'mon, baby, come for me," Harry rasps, mouthing up to his neck.

It takes no more than 10 seconds of Harry sucking another bruise into his neck for Louis' orgasm to hit, crashing over him in wave after wave, legs trembling around Harry's hips.

He's never experienced anything like it, and as his walls clench around Harry in spasms, he feels him spill into him with a grunt.

They stay like that while they come down, Harry grinding into him in circles to ride out their climaxes.

Louis collapses into Harry, arms around his neck and legs around his waist, laying his head on his shoulder until he is tenderly set down.

"That's my baby," Harry whispers in reverence, kissing Louis on the forehead.

Louis' breathing slows a bit as he looks up at Harry, eyes wide and innocent, stroking his cheek.

Harry brushes stray hair off Louis' cheek and smiles. "I love you."

  
-

  
It's the sun peaking in through the open windows. It's the sound of Harry breathing. It's the flowers on the window sill blooming bright colors. It's the white sheets contrasted by tangled tan legs and cream walls. It's the prominent but steady beat of Louis' fragile heart. It's the start of something new.

Louis continues to trace Harry's chest, sated and happy, staring up at his lover's slumber.

Late morning looks good on him.

Louis feels Harry's warm hand on his side, his arm having stayed wrapped around him, making Louis feel safe and protected.

Louis smiles and shifts a bit, onto his stomach so he's resting his chin on Harry's chest, staring at him. The hand on his hip has been jostled to the small of his back and it makes him feel small in the best way.

When Louis settles, he finds Harry's brow furrowed like he's stirring.

Louis grins up at him as his eyes open, and Harry blinks a couple times before smiling back down at him, stretching out his long limbs.

"Mmh," Harry hums when his body settles, hand coming up from Louis' back to comb through his caramel locks. "You wore me out," he chuckles.

Louis bites his lip, lifting up so he was straddling one of Harry's legs and laying a kiss right on Harry's lips. "It was so good," he giggles.

"Yeah?" Harry's eyes sparkle.

There's something different about Louis. He's glowing, his skin bleeding molten gold onto white sheets, his eyes truly bright and lively for the first time since Harry's met him.

"Yeah," he smiles.

They stare at each other, Louis in fond and Harry in awe, little smiles on their faces as they gently glide their fingers over each other's warm skin.

There's a second of Louis frowning, like he's having inner turmoil, like he wants to scream something, and Harry is about to ask him what's wrong until he says it.

"So...the call I got," he starts.

"Lou-Louis, honey, you don't have to tell me-"

"No. No, I need to. You should know. I need to tell you these things. It's the only way to help myself," Louis says sternly.

It would be an understatement to say that Harry is taken aback, but he bites his tongue because this is _good_. This is so _good_ , and it's like something clicked between them, like Louis is happy and its _beautiful_ and so, _so good_.

"I-when I was with James," Louis grimaces at the name, it feels odd in his mouth. "He had this-um-friend. His name was Zayn. I met him through James."

Harry nods, brow furrowed.

"He was nice to me. He knew what was...what was going on. He helped me get out of there. I miss him sometimes."

There's a tremble in Louis' voice, so he stops and takes a deep breath because he _needs_ to do this. He shuts his eyes and nods to himself as Harry rubs the small of his back.

"He, um-he came and got me out of the house while James was at work because I-I thought he was going to kill me. It got really bad the night before...I don't," he cuts off, taking another deep breath.

"He took me back to his and I stayed with him until I found a place. When I-when I was on my own I was so...scared...to have any connection to him-James-at all...so I never went back. I never spoke to Zayn again. I had been hiding for a year and half when I met you, then-God-then you showed up and everything changed. I-you-I love you."

"I love you too," Harry murmurs, soft. Soft.

Louis stops, collecting his thoughts, and Harry's hand roams up his back further as a way to say _it's ok, take your time_.

"I still hadn't spoken to Zayn. I was still afraid. I didn't want you to get hurt and James is-he's terrible," his voice gets quieter, like he thinks maybe James can hear him, and Harry's heart strings are tugged so hard they break.

"But then...yesterday, Zayn-um. He called. And he sounded awful." Louis shakes his head like he wants to forget the sound of whatever Zayn had told him.

"But he was babbling about how he's so sorry to call and that he doesn't want to scare or hurt me but, Hazza," Louis' voice breaks at the end, hushed now. "James shot himself."

Harry's eyes widen for a second, surveying Louis' face, not exactly knowing how to react. He wants to jump up and shout how amazing this is, how much he wanted to kill him anyway, but he doesn't.

"And I-I didn't feel bad," Louis looks down like he's ashamed. "And I know that that's ok, because-because of what he did to me for all that time."

A drop falls from Louis' eye and onto Harry chest, but neither acknowledge it.

"But shouldn't I-I don't know-feel something? Feel bad?"

Harry listens attentively, scratching Louis' back and rubbing up and down one of his arms. "Why should you feel bad, lovey?"

Louis sniffles a little, powering through. "Because Zayn said-he said that James had been trying to find me ever since I left. He said that he didn't know Zayn got me out or that I had been with him-and I just..." He lays down on Harry's chest after shaking his head, snuggling up to him and shutting his eyes when Harry wraps his arms around him. "It's my fault."

Harry shakes his head, placing a kiss on the top of Louis'. "S'not your fault, baby."

"Harry-"

"Louis, no. He was sick. The shit he did to you, baby. Fuck," Harry breathes. "Is that why...is that why you were drinking? Overwhelmed?"

Louis just nods, a little sniffle and hitch of his breath, and Harry kisses his head again.

"I want you to tell me next time, button," Harry's words are sweet. "I could've come home and given you snuggles. You could've gotten hurt."

Louis nods again, stroking Harry's bicep with his thumb and wiping his tear on Harry's chest.

"And I don't-Lou, I don't know what I'd do without you."

Louis doesn't move this time, and it's like he can feel how scared Harry was. He's about to apologize again, but Harry says something before he can.

"Who would I have to annoy, then, hm?"

A smile creeps into Louis' face, and he kisses Harry's sternum, throat, and then cheek, hovering over his face. "Flowers."

Harry grins so wide his face almost breaks in half. "I'm supposed to say that."

Louis smiles, and it's _amazing_. Louis is _alive_. "Yeah, well, Styles. Times have changed."

Harry hums, slipping his hands down to Louis' hips, "then I think maybe it's time I ask you something."

Louis' brow scrunches up, so Harry kisses the line away.

He leans over the side of the bed, opening the drawer to the night stand and pulling out a little black box.

Louis gasps and covers his mouth, still laying on top of Harry.

"You know how much I love you, baby," Harry starts. "And I want to have you forever, if you'll keep me."

He lets go of Louis' hip to open the box and presses his forehead to Louis'.

Louis brings both his hands up to hold Harry's face and he laughs like he can't believe this is real.

Harry kisses him once, still holding the ring open between them. "Will you marry me, button?"

Louis laughs again, but it's breathy and wet, like a release, and all he can do is nod, because he's seeing his future in front of him, he sees getting better, he sees a happy ending.

As Harry slips the ring onto his finger, Louis admires it's glint in the light and the engraved word in cursive over the band.

 _Flowers_.

 

  
Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not make a part 2? Maybe? Let me know? Ok.
> 
> Edit: Hello hello ! This is just a little update, as I am now (by popular request) starting a part two ! I'm not sure when it will be up, but I'll definitely work hard on it and post it as soon as I can !! Thank you for all the positive comments and kudos, it means a lot to me. All the love. xxx


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